


DELETED SCENES - YE&WL and S,SOMG

by ILoveDragonsALot



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Outbound Flight - Timothy Zahn, Star Wars: Thrawn Ascendancy Trilogy - Timothy Zahn, Star Wars: Thrawn Series - Timothy Zahn (2017)
Genre: Angst, Chiss (Star Wars), Currently being heavily edited, Deleted Scenes, F/M, Gen, Genetic Altering, Gore, I regret this but also not really, Imperial Academy, Imperial Officers (Star Wars), Multiverse, Original Character(s), Sparring, Torture, Training, cool weapons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-01-22 20:03:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21307817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ILoveDragonsALot/pseuds/ILoveDragonsALot
Summary: This was originally a character study, but now it's just deleted scenes and me playing around with ideas. This work was, at the very beginning, supposed to be Yellow Eyes and Wicked Lies, but I decided I didn't like it.So these are now deleted scenes for Yellow Eyes and Wicked Lies. Later, I'll add in some deleted scenes from Star, Shine on My Grave as well. These can be read as one-shots or just parts of a bigger story.I didn't want to delete this fic, so hello! New title, improved chapter!(Chapter 5 is a Star, Shine on my Grave deleted scene.)
Relationships: Thrass | Mitth'ras'safis & Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo, Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo & Eli Vanto, Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo & Original Female Character(s), Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 17





	1. DELETED SCENE - Shaira's New Task

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Yellow Eyes and Wicked Lies](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21417130) by [ILoveDragonsALot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ILoveDragonsALot/pseuds/ILoveDragonsALot). 

> ORIGINAL NOTES(this was so long ago lol):  
Okay, so. First fanfiction ever. Really hope this works.  
Shaira Derison is the main character.
> 
> NEW NOTES:  
Lol enjoy the chaos.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DELETED SCENE
> 
> Originally a character study, but I realized it's more a deleted scene than anything else. It had the potential to be fleshed out a little more, so I did so. I didn't like the original chapter, either, so this is basically me being annoyed with my previous writing.  
Someone here can probably relate.
> 
> This 'TEST' fic has become my 'DELETED SCENES' fic for some of my other works.  
Enjoy!

Grey walls. Grey bed.

Everything was just _grey_.

The only splash of colour seemed to be her eyes. One black, one orange-brown. Her hair, though a similar colour, was almost bleached silver by the harsh lighting of her quarters. She turned down the lights, of course. Just enough to see, just dark enough to unsettle anyone who dared enter.

No one dared anyway.

She stared at the mirror reflecting that harsh light. Round, pale face. Straight, blunt nose. Thin blood-red lips. Oh yes, those lips were almost forgotten. Another small dab of colour to add to the eyes.

A shame no one would ever see them.

She began to pace again. Her lip curled into a sharp-toothed snarl.

_The Emperor deserves to die._

Those thoughts shouldn't have been crawling through her mind, but she couldn't stop them. Not the thoughts, not the voices, not the memories. It would be enough to have her executed for treason, these things she told herself.

Even if they were true.

Of _course_ the Emperor deserved to die. Many times over, again and again and again, and it still wouldn't be enough.

And yet she served him, she carried out his orders, even though she knew he was a tyrant. A plague on the galaxy.

So _why_ did she serve him?

_Because I deserve to die as well._

She stopped pacing and hesitantly touched her scar. It travelled down her right cheek, splitting through her right eyebrow, on the side of her black eye. She remembered the pain clearly. It burned like searing red-hot wire.

The blade, cutting through her flesh like it was mere butter.

Panic stabbed deep into her gut.

She fought to control her breathing. _Stop thinking about that_. She hissed inside her thoughts._ You're one of the most deadly assassins in the Empire, and can't control a little panic?_

A blinding white slammed into the backs of her eyes.

She doubled over in pain, her insides clenching, sightless to the grey around her. A high-pitched sound rang in her ears.

She couldn't breathe.

A thick black fog began to choke away the air in her lungs. And quickly, it engulfed her.

* * *

She forced open her eyes. Slowly, wincing at the aches in her joints, she rose up from the ground, grass poking through the gaps between her fingers. 

Ground. She was on the ground. Grassy ground.

She quickly shoved upwards to her knees.

And came face to face with a creature. The first thing that registered was _white_. The creature, as her brain quickly informed her, was a beacon of light in every way. Feathered wings, four long, wiry legs and tail. Four ears that twitched of their own accord, and two stunning blue eyes, slitted pupils shaped like that of a cat. And its fur was a breathtaking, awe-inspiring, gob-smacking, heart-clenching _white_. 

And very slowly, it leaned forward and touched its nose to hers.

Calm flooded her body, a sweet serenity that she was sure would taste of smooth maple syrup. 

_Shaira._ It whispered. _Fear will always lead to darkness._

Shaira allowed a slow breath to brush over her lips. _I know,_ she thought back._That does not mean it is easy._

It hummed in agreement, but a frown creased its elegant snout. _What is right will never be easy. You must always remember this._

She had heard the saying before, a long time ago. Too distant to remember the face of the speaker.

Shaira blinked the memory away. _I gather you have not visited me simply to calm me. I do appreciate that, though._

It hummed again, the frown deepening. _Yes. Remember, the ice is not as cold as the flames._

_I... do not understand._

_Only time will give its wisdom, Shaira. Only time._

* * *

Shaira had only heard this creature. Never seen it. It was a relief to finally couple the voice with a face. Though, to be honest, she had expected the voice to be a little more _human_.

The Force was a strange thing. Shaira preferred not to rely entirely on it, building muscle rather than faith. But there were many times where it had saved her life or simply made it less awkward.

The life of an assassin, especially an Imperial one, was a very dangerous road to walk.

It was one of the reasons why she kept a fake identity, Aris Or'lei. A public face to hide in, a mask to shelter behind.

Aris was nothing like Shaira.

Bubbly and pleasantly mysterious, a mildly popular voice and a smooth speaker. Someone easy to hang out with, someone easy to talk to. A perfect personality to gain information and unknowing allies.

Shaira herself could never be so warm, so inviting. The Emperor expected his assassin to be emotionless and professional. To use her anger but never show it. It did not help that she had never really learned how to speak to people, either. Not without short, blunt sentences and a disregard for the other's feelings.

Perfectly unreadable, but also flawlessly disliked.

Because information ran on social skills, Aris Or'lei was the only person who could acquire such things. Even if the skill had to be faked.

The face had succeeded in being the cloak that had won Shaira her title.

_Grand Assassin._

Of course, she wouldn't bow to the Emperor forever. If no one else had been involved in the first place, Shaira wouldn't be here at all.

But there were other lives at stake. She couldn't be responsible for any more deaths, any more innocent people.

Shaira clutched her face in her hands.

_I'm lying to myself._

How long would she try to keep her friends alive? How many people did she have to kill before the Emperor would free them?

_Never,_ the little voice in her head whispered. _You'll never get them back._

Her datapad chimed.

She deflated and dragged herself up off the floor. The mirror glinted menacingly in the corner of her eye.

_Go away, foul creature._

Shaira picked up her datapad, the screen stabbing brightly into her eyes.

___

_ROYAL IMPERIAL ACADEMY ENROLLMENT ACCEPTED._

___

Her eyes narrowed.

_What is my new task, my Master?_

She scrolled, reading through her instructions, analyzing the Emperor's orders.

_-A cadet in the Imperial Academy is a rebel infiltrator, along with an instructor. You are to seek them out and report your findings. When the opportunity arises, you will cut out this disease permanently. Make no mistake, as the Empire's bureaucrats will be watching. They will know if the wrong cadet has been accused.-_

_-Commandant Deenlark has been partially informed of your task, but you are not to tell him any more than he already knows.-_

_-Do not fail me, Grand Assassin.-_

_So you do not know who this cadet or this instructor is,_ Shaira thought to herself. _You only know who can find them._

It would be rather _disastrous,_ would it not, if the rebels lost a little piece in their precious little puzzle?

_A rebel infiltrator. I am to pose as a cadet, then._

A gruesome smile pulled at her lips, long teeth glinting.

_I see your meaning, Master. And I vow to find these infiltrators and bring them to justice for their crimes._

That smile widened.

_Who would ever expect a _child_ of such savagery?_


	2. DELETED SCENE - A Pau'an and an Elevator

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ORIGINAL NOTES:  
Grand Inquisitor coming right up! Oh, and Shaira is about to get a nasty surprise...  
And a really unexpected surprise.  
This takes place about the time that Thrawn and Eli Vanto arrive at Coruscant at the Imperial Palace. First day at the Imperial Academy... and Shaira ain't gonna like it.
> 
> All characters in Star Wars used in this story belong to their rightful owners. I do not own any of these.  
Please do not use any of these OC's without my permission.
> 
> NEW NOTES:  
What the hell was past me even writing in this.

Today, the elevator couldn't be slower. In fact, Shaira was sure the elevator had been secretly rigged to drag its way down just for this specific occasion. She idly wondered whether there was a 'slow down ridiculously' button hidden somewhere. She was sure the elevator would have even gone faster with Vader in it with her; at least he didn't _talk_. But _no_. The Grand Inquisitor just had to stick his nose into everything. And talk while doing it.

Maybe it was because he couldn't read her mind, so he spoke instead to see her reaction.

He wasn't going to get one.

She unconsciously touched a scar on her right arm, one of the older ones that had been given to her by the Grand Inquisitor. Fortunately, there were no new ones. A person rapidly improves in their lightsaber forms when someone is trying to kill them daily. Either that or die, she guessed. _Good thing I didn't die, then_.

They were travelling to the Imperial Palace where some insignificant administrator (that thought _way_ too much of themselves) was supposed to present the paperwork required to join the Imperial Academy. She had already done most of it, these were just the dregs that needed to be signed with her fingerprint, approved by the petty administrator, and then she could get on with her studies once they were passed on to Commandant Deenlark. 

She had 3 months to do just that. Lucky for her, she wasn't going to sit the final tests. 

As it turned out, Shaira Derison already had the rank of Commander.

Commander Or'lei for the Imperials. Grand Assassin for the Emperor.

As far as she was concerned, those ranks would never be washed clean of the blood spilt upon them.

Even if they could be washed-

"I am surprised the Emperor is allowing you to attend the Imperial Academy here. It is something not usually bestowed on someone so young," the Grand Inquisitor growled, his voice deep and grating.

Shaira was _really_ wishing she had her double-bladed lightsaber at the moment. She was proud of the design; it had taken many weeks to get the style and weight right. It had a savage elegance to the hilt, and when the red blades were ignited, a deadly aura. She felt fortunate not to have lost any limbs _yet_.

Shaira reinforced the barriers in her minds, the ones that had protected her the very moment she had stepped into the Imperial Palace for the first time. How long ago that seemed now. "And _I_ am surprised _you_ have not been choked to death. It is amazing that Darth Vader didn't completely wreck your ego the moment you two slashed at each other with lightsabers."

"Large words from a child that let her family die."

Shaira straightened to her full height, all in all adding to a bit taller than he was. She felt the familiar burn in her eyes of when they turned yellow, her pupils black slits. Razor teeth flashed white as she bared them.

With satisfaction, she felt his Force signature flicker with unease, but he didn't back down. It wasn't in his nature to back down. One day that would kill the foolish Pau'an, she was sure.

Shaira took a small step forward, her glare enough to annihilate a planet. She let the Force guide her to wrap the presence of a hand around his throat, but pushed aside the desire to cut off his air supply. "If you ever mention them again" - her voice remarkably devoid of emotion - "I will forget your importance."

The Inquisitor's reddish-yellow eyes narrowed slightly as the pressure around his neck squeezed slightly, then broke off.

The only sign it had ever happened was the twitch of Shaira's fingers and his reply:

"Lord Vader would not pleased."

Shaira snorted, clamping down on her emotions. "He's _never_ pleased."

* * *

As it turned out, the administrator was just some Coruscanti low-life in a fancy office. Her name was Iris, but Shaira would have called her 'I-Fake'. Not that it was inventive, but it distracted Shaira from the unease of having her face without her mask.

Iris smiled sweetly, but her thoughts were anything _but_ sweet. They went something like 'unknown space vermin' and 'useless Wild Spacer.'

Shaira sighed inwardly and almost coughed. _And stop with the damn perfume.__ It _stinks.

The tap-tap of the woman's fingers on the computer were almost driving Shaira mad, too. Iris' clothing looked worse than the dark grey pants and shirt Shaira was wearing. Who wears a red and blue checkered shirt? How does that not kill your eyesight?

_Paperwork._

Maybe if the Grand Inquisitor had come into the office rather than stayed outside, Iris would suddenly have all the papers done and ready for signing. Or if Shaira's eyes hadn't switched back to mismatched brown and remained yellow, Iris would _hurry up_.

Shaira closed her eyes and let the Force wash through her. She was suddenly flooded with many presences, Iris and her bland grey mind patterns, the Pau'an with his dark stormcloud of red and black, and then others began to enter her Force sight. The Imperial Royal guards, their thoughts and emotions like clear water; impossible to grasp. As she reached further she felt the repulsive presence of the Emperor. Like a gaping hole of darkness in the universe. She didn't dare pry into his thoughts with the Force, he was certain to notice it. She couldn't use her natural mind-reading abilities if she couldn't see him, either. But then she saw... ice?

The Emperor was talking to... something. A foreign mind touched her own. She almost flinched as the unfamiliar patterns filled her head; spotlessly clean of emotion and ordered precisely... but she couldn't _read_ them. It was like trying to see air. You know it's there and can see its effects, but you _can't see it_. This mind, decidedly male, was exactly like this.

And then a thought slammed into hers.

A name, in all sense, that shouldn't be known by someone with such a distant, alien mind.

_Anakin Skywalker_.

* * *

The administrator had seemed rather startled when a shocked gasp had escaped Shaira's lips.

"Miss Or'lei?" Iris had asked. "Are you alright?"

Shaira blinked a few times. "Yes, yes, I'm fine. Just a headache."

"Ouch, I get them sometimes too. It's not too bad?" Iris cooed sympathetically. Or tried to, anyway.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. Just surprised me."

"Well, the papers have been filled out. I just need your fingerprint" - Iris motioned to the datapad on the desk - "and your forms will be complete."

Shaira stepped forward, trying hard to clear her head. Regardless, the name still echoed.

She gently pressed her index finger to the screen, ignoring the slight shaking of her hand. There was a faint 'bling!' and the datapad flashed green.

"Congratulations, Miss Or'lei!" Iris gave Shaira another one of her sweet smiles carefully hiding disgust and offered her a data card. "This will have all the things you need to know. Just insert it into your datapad, and you'll never feel wiser!"

Shaira took it gingerly, remembering just in time to be the optimistic, friendly Aris Or'lei and _not_ remark that 'yes, I know what a data card does', deciding that it wouldn't make things any easier. She inserted it into her own datapad, scanned the information to make sure nothing was corrupted, or worse, infected with spyware. Finding nothing out of place, she smiled, hoping it didn't look fake and nodded once.

"Thank you, Mrs Edwarn. Have a good evening!" she said, letting enthusiasm drip into her farewell.

Only those who knew her well would know that the enthusiasm wasn't real.

* * *

She exited the office, datapad in one hand. A sudden melancholy settled over her as the door whooshed shut behind her. How many cadets at the Academy would be dead before they could even live life? How many would be killed because they're on the wrong side of the battlefield?

When she looked around, she found that the Grand Inquisitor was nowhere to be seen. Interesting. He must have had somewhere else to go anyway, just had spare time.

As she travelled back down the corridor, ignoring the slight limp she had had for a while now, the name whispered inside her mind again. _Anakin Skywalker__... where would the alien have possibly heard that before?_

She raked her memory. Nothing matched up. It had been a long time since she had first stumbled into the insides of that portal. Shaira could still remember it clearly as if it had happened yesterday. Her friends were unconscious. She was the only one who saw the inside of the portal as the Inquisitors dragged the others and Darth Vader himself marched behind her. She was almost unconscious as well, the only thing keeping her vision from going dark was a fear she had never imagined possible. It was like someone had injected the emotion into her veins; a panic that paled in comparison to her anxiety attacks. She had almost blacked out when Vader had rumbled from that hideous mask: "**Move****.**" And it had hit her like a brick wall.

The moment her foot touched the ground on the other side of the portal. Into the other universe. It was like being punched in the face.

Earth was gone. She couldn't go back. She had been taken from her planet, her galaxy, her universe. And the universe she had just stepped into, the one she had read about in books and watched in movies, the one she had wished was real, had come to take her. And now she was in the middle of it.

Shaira ruthlessly forced away her emotions. She was an assassin. Assassins shouldn't feel.

But she did. Just not as much as when her soft side had snapped in two. The moment Vader had killed the rest of her family. Your loyalty is to the Empire, he had said. Not to them.

And she never saw her friends again, either. They might be alive, but if they were, she was not the same person. She would never be the same person that had come out of that portal 3 years ago.


	3. DELETED SCENE - Shaira Meets Some Guys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ORIGINAL NOTES:  
Shaira meets Eli Vanto, and Thrawn.  
Time for stuff to get awkward.  
So, Sy Bisti is one of the languages she speaks, which Eli and Thrawn also speak.  
Oof, this is gonna be great.
> 
> NEW NOTES:  
I'm so glad I learned how to write conversations. What was I even DOING.

Shaira limped down the corridor, ignoring the dull throb of pain in her right calf. The old injury had always hurt, but today was a particularly painful day. It _may have_ had something to do with Shaira not putting on her leg brace before sleeping… Nah, why would it be that? Pffft… 

And the sheer size of the corridors and the massive pillars was almost giving her a real headache to add to the sore leg. The vastness of the once-Jedi-temple wasn’t necessary, it simply needed small corridors and then there would be no trouble fitting in more rooms. The Jedi really outdid things… no wonder the Empire could find them so easily. But she didn’t agree that the Sith were superior, either; both had their weak points. Shaira had fought hard to keep away from the Dark Side, but hadn’t wandered over to the Light Side because one, Darth Vader would kill her then and there, two, the Emperor would murder her horribly, and three, the Inquisitors would try to get in a stab or two as well. Though after what had happened half a year ago, she was falling a little too close to the Dark Side for her liking.

She knew she had done terrible things to keep those she loved alive.

One can never truly outrun their secrets. Shaira was well aware of this; she had understood the factors of life at a young age and had seen the bad sides of people a few too many times. Only a very select handful accepted her for who she was: a serious and easily stressed kid who always looked on the logical side of things and had learnt how to stamp out emotion. Though even they didn’t know many things about her, mainly that she just loved reading Star Wars and non-fiction.

She had been nothing strange.

She yearned for Earth, it was like missing a limb. A gaping wound where something should be. Plus, if anyone at the Academy asked where her accent came from (a sharp accent, but soft on the s’s) she wouldn't be able to tell them. Because in this universe, Earth didn’t exist, and neither did her accent. Shaira swore the Core Worlders had British accents and the Wild Spacers sounded American. Her accent was closer to a Togorian. Oh, she was going to have the hell bullied out of her for that. The scar might not scare them enough. And if the uniforms included shorts… questions were going to be asked about her leg.

_And questions are never something I need._

Whoever she was with in the dorms would-

A whisper echoed through the hallways, and her head snapped across to the sound. If someone was infiltrating the palace, they wouldn’t have got this far, and even if they did, they wouldn’t have chosen these hallways. It would have to have been the people who were speaking with the Emperor, so in that case…

Shaira pressed the inside of her left wrist twice, the button connected wirelessly to her ear protectors inside her ears deactivating. Immediately, the voices tripled in intensity.

_ Ouch_.

“Safe travels, Captain,” a smooth, suave voice offered, strangely accented. Definitely male, and the shiver it sent up Shaira’s spine was something she rarely experienced.

“Thank you, Thrawn,” a male human voice answered, Core accent, certainly the Captain. “And good luck, Cadet Vanto.”

_Those names are... familiar._

The last piece slipped into place, realization making her back go rigid. She wasn’t sure who was more surprised: her, or the others who had just rounded the corner.

_ Damn. And I was so close to the elevators... _

* * *

_The human female is very tall, her back rigid with suppressed shock. Her face is surprisingly calm and her mismatched eyes of black and brown are remarkably devoid of emotion. Her broad shoulders, muscular build and piercing stare indicate discipline and combat experience, and the long, savage scar down the right side of her face supports this conclusion. Her gaze immediately flicks to me, and a small flicker of recognition flares in her eyes before she clears it out. Disturbing, and very interesting. Her face is round and soft with youth, with many years of discovery ahead of her. It is very unlikely she has travelled the Unknown Regions or seen a Chiss. Perhaps she is mistaken?_

_ She looks each of the others up and down, her stare seemingly taking in details. Those strange human eyes come back to me briefly, a flame of curiosity igniting there. It is surprising to see her not initially react with disgust or contempt. The woman forces her body to relax, a mask slipping in place to hide her emotions. _

_ Interesting. _

Shaira dipped her head, turning it slightly to the right. _A sign of respect? An odd gesture._

When she lifted her head again, her glare studied the Captain. _Her eyes dart briefly to his rank plaque, then back to his face._

"Captain, good morning. I believe we have not met before."_ Her voice is accented lightly and does not betray her mood. It has a slight underpinning of respect and some awkwardness._

"No, we haven't. May I ask your name, Miss?" _His voice holds suspicion_.

Shaira dipped her head again. "Aris Or'lei." _Her voice is flat and harsh. The way she says it in contrast to her previous statement makes it possible she is lying._

"I am Captain Voss Parck." He gestures to each of the others. "This is Major Barris, Cadet Vanto and Thrawn."

He does not introduce his troopers. _Perhaps he believes them beneath her interest. Or'lei's gaze flickers, straying to his other men. Perhaps she finds this odd as well._

_Captain Parck's brow furrows, as if uncertain. Perhaps in confusion._ "You're a singer, correct?"

Her eyes flash briefly in irritation. "I am, Captain."

_Cadet Vanto looks a little harder at Miss Or'lei at her answer, his eyes narrowing and his jaw slackening slightly. His gaze holds some disbelief, some suspicion. He likely has similar questions as I._

Why would a singer be in the Imperial Palace? What purpose does she fulfil? Her build is not one that implied a comfortable life.

_I find it unlikely she is simply a singer._

Major Barris cut in, earning a frown from Parck. "I mean no disrespect, sir, but don't we have places to be?"

"Yes, Major. I must go, Miss Or'lei. Perhaps next time you perform, I can take you out for a drink afterwards? I am quite fond of the Dark Kwarish."

This earned a small smile from Shaira, but her eyes were still blank. "Perhaps, Captain. I am afraid I must go as well. It was an honour to meet you Captain, Major, Thrawn, Cadet Vanto." She finished with another one of those strange bows and strode strongly down the left corridor. The others, apart from Thrawn and Cadet Vanto, turned down the corridor from where Shaira had just come.

Thrawn watched them go briefly, assuming their shuttle would be waiting for them in a different place.

"Miss!" Vanto called, already falling behind.

Shaira swerved to look behind her in one smooth motion, wincing slightly. "It's just Aris." _Her tone deepens partially._

Cadet Vanto had to jog to catch up, but Thrawn's strides were unhurried. Though, because of their height difference, his stride equalled Vanto's jog.

"Right. Aris," he said in his thick Wild Space accent. _She doesn't seem to react to it._ "I think we're going to the same place."

"Yes. I'm assuming you're both going to the Royal Imperial Academy?"

Cadet Vanto grimaced. "Yeah, not sure how that's going to go. Hey, um... where are you from?"

_The muscles in her cheeks tense partially, and she slows her pace_. "If you're trying to strike up a conversation, I'm the wrong person."

His face fell. "Oh. Sorry, I didn't mean to pry."

"I didn't take offence," she said plainly. "And I don't care where you're from, I'm not a Core Worlder."

"Still, sorry to bother you."

"It's fine," she shook her head. _Her face relaxes and she falls back to what he assumes is her normal stride._ "What planet are you from?"

Cadet Vanto paused as if weighing his options. Considering her previous statement. "Lysatra."

Shaira frowned. "I have never heard of it. It's in Wild Space, yes? What's it like?"

"Mostly golden grass plains and patches of thin forest."

"Hot?" Shaira asks. _Her sharp gaze roams over his face, noting his tan skin._

"Very," he answered dryly.

* * *

Remarkably, the elevator seemed to have recovered from its 'slow down ridiculously' button and was now working as usual. 

Strange how that happened.

Eli Vanto had asked a few more questions, and Thrawn hadn't said anything. He mainly just stared with those beautiful red eyes of his, not seeming to realize that long periods of staring was _rude_ and _annoying_. If he didn't stop soon, Shaira was going to tell him.

Bluntly.

Eli was the first to break the uncomfortable silence. "How old are you exactly?"

Shaira felt herself smirk. "Do you really want to know the answer to that question?"

"The Captain asked you out for a drink, so you've got to be at least seventeen." His lips thinned with distaste. "You are, right?"

"If I told you, you wouldn't believe me."

He raised an eyebrow, while Thrawn looked on with mild interest. As Shaira was in close proximity, she could read Vanto's thoughts clearly. And Eli wasn't going to give up on the question. Thrawn, however, was almost impossible to read. All she could gather was that he was mildly amused and quite interested. His thought patterns were in a foreign language, so that's all she could get.

"Try me," Eli Vanto challenged.

_He's going to regret the question_, she thought.

"Okay then. No give-backs. I am physically thirteen and in actual time sixteen."

Vanto paused. When he belatedly realized she wasn't joking, a rapid series of expressions crossed his face. Mostly disbelief. "Captain Parck asked you out for a drink," he said slowly. "And you are thirteen. Technically sixteen." He frowned. "How by the Maker does that work and why did you say _yes_?"

A bored look crossed her face. "I didn't say yes. I said _perhaps_. And to make you feel better, I'll admit that I would rather jump out of a building than have a drink with him. Oh, and I reached thirteen and stopped ageing. That's how it works." Which wasn't exactly true, but it didn't matter. Part of her had still stayed with her universe. And while she was in this universe, that part of her left in her own one wouldn't age. So if she went back to Earth, she would start ageing again as if nothing had happened, and no time would have passed from when she left the portal.

For the first time, Thrawn spoke to her, glowing crimson eyes lasering onto hers. "What is the Dark Kwarish?"

Shaira blinked. "It was a music album I made."

Thrawn turned to Vanto. "_Repeat_?" he asked in Sy Bisti.

_Sy Bisti? Iiiinteresting._

Eli repeated to him what she'd said in Sy Bisti.

"Ah, I see. If you are a singer, why would someone like you be here?"

_Oh boy. Was kinda expecting that, though._

"I had to fill out paperwork. For the Academy."

Thrawn's eyes narrowed. "You already seem to have military experience."

Shaira resisted the urge to sigh sarcastically. She hadn't slept, but that was nothing new. Vanto glanced between them. "The same could be said for _you_. I grew up with... an abnormal culture, let's say. I was expected to be like this."

"No offence, but you're more Wild Space than I am."

She raised an eyebrow at Vanto. "More than you know."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this disaster.  
:D


	4. DELETED SCENE - Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ORIGINAL SUMMARY:  
Shaira begins to decipher some of Thrawn's 'mind code' on the way to the Academy, and the Force assists her in regaining some of her missing memories. And when she has time to reflect on those books she read long ago, she begins to remember the two main options Thrawn was faced with before his 'exile', finding another reason not to trust him.  
Disclaimer: Some passages have been taken or altered for this piece from the book Star Wars: Thrawn - by Timothy Zahn. I do not own these nor do I claim them as my own.
> 
> NEW SUMMARY:  
Just read and leave I'm currently questioning everything I've ever written. EVERYTHING. Like, what was past me thinking when they wrote this? "Lol she lost her memories but oops forgot to mention it!"  
Maybe I'M the one who's lost memories.
> 
> *mutters* Heavens above...

The ride to the Academy with a short stop along the way offered time to think. And ponder whether Shaira's involvement would change fate. Shaira very clearly remembered that the Death Star would destroy Alderaan, and then a second one would be built, but she didn't know the time of the fiasco nor the chances of her stuffing everything up and accidentally ruining the galaxy.

That was her main concern at the moment. What if her appearance had somehow dramatically changed fate? Or if she had changed Thrawn's?

On that subject, why was Thrawn here? She had been asking herself that question ever since she had realized who the blue guy was.

Above everything, she knew that Thrawn was not to be trusted. She couldn't remember the details of _why_, but something in the Force was telling her to be careful. The hairs on her neck stood up every time he so much as glanced at her with his red eyes. He wasn't broadcasting any emotions in the Force, so Shaira switched to her mind-reading, scanning mentally for any phrases or images she could understand. Hell, even a corroded memory would do.

But it was like trying to read a rock. You can't read it without words, (obviously), and in this case, the words there weren't understandable.

Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and rested her head on her arms folded over the top of the seat. The Force had been trying to tell her something all morning, she just needed to listen. She let it flood her being, the dark and light tangling with each other to take control. She shoved the darkness aside; she had been through hell and come out the other side. There was no way she'd let it poison her now.

For a moment, it was like the Force was hesitating, waiting for something. And then slowly, very carefully, a blurry image formed in her mind. At first, she couldn't discern what it was, but it soon became apparent she was seeking an answer, and not the truth. It wasn't _what_, it was _who_. A whisper formed; a soft, minute voice. 

_Thrass, _it said. _This is for the best._

And a small and rather important fragment slipped into place.

Mitth'ras'safis and Mitth'raw'nuruodo. Brothers of politics and war.

_Thrass and Thrawn_.

And now the image was clear. But it wasn't simply an image, it was a memory. The scene repeated, but now she could see it.

Thrass, the older brother of Thrawn, looked partway between murdering someone and attending a funeral.

"Thrass," Thrawn said gravely. "This is for the best."

"I fail to see how faking _exile_ is for the best!" Thrass shouted. "You will lose your Mitth title and everything you have worked towards! The Chiss Expansionary Defence Fleet needs you, especially at this time. You _can't leave_."

"It is not your decision to make, brother. I am doing this for the Ascendancy."

"You are a fool!" Thrass spat, his eyes narrowed in rage. "And you will die with my warning. You are on your own, Mitth'raw'nuruodo."

Shaira could feel Thrawn flinch internally, but his mind had been set.

She sucked in a breath as the memory flickered and died before her eyes, and suddenly all she could perceive were her scarred arms sitting right in front of her face. Lifting her head that suddenly felt twice as heavy, she glanced over at Thrawn.

He was staring at her, his hair now cut a short blue-black, red orbs narrowed partially.

Her face and voice were relatively calm, contrary to the terror writhing in her stomach. "Can I help you?"

The only thoughts racing through her mind were: _Damn, damn, damn, damn._

He regarded her for a moment longer. "Perhaps."

_Since when did you learn sarcasm in Engli- Basic?_

"What languages do you speak?" Thrawn asked, his gaze searching.

The topic threw her off guard. _Conversations are hard without mind-reading._ "Some Huttese, Jawaese and a lot of Droidspeak, and I can understand some Shyriiwook and words in Mando'a."

"I am not familiar with such languages."

Shaira rolled her eyes. "Well, stick around a little longer and you'll be more than familiar."

Thrawn paused. "I do not understand wherein lies the humour."

Eli Vanto twisted around to face them, his dark grey shirt crumpling. "She means we're probably going to be treated with contempt and will have various insults thrown at us."

Shaira studied the view outside, the Royal Academy quickly coming into focus. "Mmm-hmm. And I hear the Core Worlders can get quite creative with their slang."

As the shuttle touched down on the Academy grounds and heads began to turn, Shaira stood and addressed them. "I'm not one for inspiring speeches, so how good are you at concealing accents?"

* * *

The Cadets had mainly stared, unwilling to believe their eyes. No matter how strong Shaira's mental defences were, they quickly dissolved under the tension and her mind was pummelled with intense mental questions.

_Who are they?_

_Is this a joke?_

_What is that?_

_Who the hell do these guys think they are?_

And, of course, a few more _colourful_ ones.

Shaira had thanked the driver and marched out the door, head held high. She had endured far worse at the hand of Vader, and a few petty Core Worlders weren't going to destroy her dignity. She disregarded the stabs of pain shooting up her right leg and strode through the growing crowd, Cadet Vanto and Thrawn behind her.

If the Cadets with about three years of training could mostly keep their mouths shut, she expected the higher-ups could as well.

She knew she was wrong the moment she stepped in the door.

"So," Commandant Deenlark growled as Thrawn and Vanto stood with backs straight at attention, gazes forward. "Was this Admiral Foss's idea of a joke?"

Shaira didn't answer, her shoulders relaxed but her mind going haywire. _This_ was Commandant Deenlark? What a joke of a man. Ruled by bureaucrats and their petty nature, obviously, and starting to show it.

"The Emperor himself sent us here, sir," Eli answered, his voice strained. He sounded lost; Shaira couldn't blame him.

"That was a rhetorical question, _Cadet_. You do have words like _rhetorical_ in Wild Space, don't you?" he ground out, ugly brown eyes narrowed.

Eli gritted his teeth. "Yessir."

"As for you," Deenlark said, his glare swinging over to Thrawn. "What's _your_ excuse?"

Shaira cut in with a sigh. "If you're going to target people because you can't handle your own racism, leave the cadet out of it."

Deenlark snapped around as if to notice her for the first time. Eli tensed. "And who would you be?"

"Cadet Or'lei, sir."

The faintest flicker of unease twitched over his face. "And what are you? A dropout? The latest experiment?"

Her gaze flashed with rage, unspoken threats blazing in her burning eyes. She grappled with it, trying hard to stamp it out. "A cadet, _sir._ And a good one, if you've taken time out of your precious schedule to read your latest _mail."_

Eli stared at her with wide eyes, Thrawn still watching passively.

He barked out a harsh laugh. "We'll see how _good_ you are when put up against _my_ standards."

"Indeed we will, sir."

Her gaze pierced his mind, letting her cold, dark aura claw its way beneath his skin.

"Right," the Commandant muttered, but some of the fire in his eyes had died. "In that case, let us proceed, shall we?" He turned back to the others. "Admiral Foss informed me that you were already a fancy-faced soldier and that you're supposed to leave here as Lieutenant. Congratulations, Lieutenant Thrawn."

He flicked over a lieutenants' rank plaque and Thrawn picked it up carefully. "Thank you, sir."

Deenlark continued. "Since Cadet Vanto here has three months until graduation, and the other special little cadet thinks she can ace everything in 10% of the required time, you'll have that long to catch up. Fail, and you're out. Which wouldn't surprise me, alien."

"The Emperor might disagree," Thrawn replied.

"The Emperor would understand, especially if everyone we turned out into the Navy brought the Empire crashing down. Understood, Cadets?" He asked, his eyes sweeping across the three people before him from under bushy eyebrows.

"Understood, sir." They answered.

Shaira couldn't help but put a little sarcasm into it.

* * *

Barracks Two-Hundred-Twenty. That's where they would be spending the next three months.

She let the concept roll around in her head for a bit. Roommates. Hmmm. The only 'roommates' she had ever had were her friends when they were locked in an interrogation cell. Those still haunted her thoughts... oh no.

_Oh, you've got to be kidding me._

She had nightmares. They would certainly hear her, she _screamed_ when she slept. She could still hear the terror rippling through the air from the interrogation cells when the Emperor was trying to find who was Force-sensitive-

She would die with those sounds in her ears, as had those she knew.

It took her a long moment to notice she had just been asked a question. She blinked twice. "I was just asked something, wasn't I?"

"I said," Eli repeated impatiently. "How are you here? With us? At sixteen?"

There was no one around in this corridor, so Shaira felt it best to give them a short version of the truth. "I was good at what I did."

"If you don't mind me asking, _Aris_," Eli scoffed. "What prompted the Empire to assign you to the most difficult academy in the galaxy? You wouldn't have just been 'good at what you did'."

"Fine," Shaira growled. "I was schooled in advanced combat, weapons and strategy. I _also_ had a rather useful stubbornness that got me through every challenge thrown at me. Are we good now?"

"No," Eli retorted. "Your parents just _let_ you go?"

Shaira turned her face away quickly, unprepared for the sudden emotion crushing her throat. Eli had felt genuinely angered by the fact that Shaira's parents had 'let' her be taken away to fight. And the Force didn't lie; neither had her mind-reading.

"Let's not bring them into this," she mumbled, fighting back the tears that threatened to fall. She wasn't going to fall apart here. Certainly not in front of _them_. 

Eli realized he had just crossed some unseen line and changed up the subject. "There has to be more to it than just skill."

"I was chosen personally," Shaira said, her voice remarkably even. "And that's all you need to know."

"You mentioned earlier that you do not age normally," Thrawn said, speaking up as if to ease the tension. "Do the rest of your people share the same... _sakwisu_?"

"Characteristics," Eli translated.

"Thank you," Thrawn said politely. "Do the rest of your people share the same characteristics as you do?"

"No," Shaira answered. "Only a very select few."

"Did this increase your performance in any way?"

Shaira frowned. She hadn't quite thought of that. "Not... not that I know of." _The Emperor couldn't possibly have reached through the portal before it was opened, could he? __It collapsed anyway... something went wrong._ Yet another unwelcome reminder of how Shaira couldn't go back.

"Interesting," Thrawn murmured, his red eyes narrowing in thought. "At what age do humans fully mature?"

"About twenty-one standard years," Eli put in.

Thrawn considered this information as the mouse droid led them on, the voices whispering in Shaira's ears were a malicious reminder that here, she had a job. To find the traitors.

And she had to complete it.

* * *

It had been a few weeks, and nothing exciting had happened yet.

Shaira had taken the left bunk, but even when Eli and Thrawn were asleep, information she couldn't quite grasp and questions that had no answers twisted around in her head, causing her to stare aimlessly at the ceiling. She needed something green to remind her of home, and hopefully encourage the Force to manifest itself in 'answer-mode.'

She rose quietly, slipping on her cadet uniform quickly and treading carefully towards the door. It unlocked when it recognized the code and opened with a soft _whoosh_.

Her black shin-high boots sat strangely on her feet, rubbing against the scar down her leg painfully. The uniforms also weren't made for combat or comfort, simply for looks. They rubbed in irritating places...

No one else was down the halls or outside, and the harsh Coruscant lights were both pretty and gruesome at the same time in the depths of the night. She inhaled the fresher-than-where-I-was-but-still-not-quite-fresh air and walked at a leisurely place to the gardens. Of _course_ this place had gardens, it was the Royal Imperial Academy, 'beholden to the families of Coruscant.'

_Yes, but only in the way those families want it beholden._

Her thoughts led her to a shallow pool, circled by smooth pebbles and exotic purple flowers. Coruscant's skyline shone down on the gently lapping water and reflected up into Shaira's face, casting an oddly beautiful glow. If her schedule had not prevented her from finding the place sooner, she would be down here every night.

She remembered the strange dragon's words as she settled onto the pebbles, not far from the water. '_What is right will never be easy._'

It was _easy_ to lose oneself to the Dark Side and to become cruel and wound with hatred. She recalled something she had written down not long before she was snatched away from her reality. '_Take away your friends, your family, and those who influence your decisions. Who are you now?_'

She could still not answer that question.

_So full of questions in an Empire that loves to hide the answers._

And so she made a promise to herself that night, upon the stones. That she, Shaira Derison, would never shatter to become like those of the Empire. She would never let the darkness take her. She would never truly become Aris Or'lei, the one hiding a dagger behind a smile.

* * *

She had been staring at the pool for about an hour now, transfixed by the eerie shimmering. Some of the answers had not been withholden from her. No secret could hide forever, not if you had some of the pieces.

But she would admit she was uncertain again, the feeling eating away at her insides. The Force had brought back some of her memories, but there were others she knew she had forgotten. But for now, she had enough. Enough to know that the cadets and possibly the Instructors, pinned as traitors, were definitely here. She'd accessed the comms array and had monitored any short text messages, no more than a couple of words. After sorting through her results, she'd found some interesting codes. ISB could deal with those, she just needed them back soon enough to draw conclusions and pin watches on the people she found suspicious.

Another hour had passed when she heard him.

The measured tread was unmistakable, and she would admit, he was good. Really good. If she had a normal human's hearing, she would have been oblivious. 

But she didn't, so she regarded him with a slight turn of her head. He paused, and then decided the stealth was no longer necessary. There was the soft crunching of boots on stones and then a scrape as he sat himself down beside her. Far enough away, however, that if she tried to take a swing at him, it would only knick him. She watched him out of the corner of her eye, but he didn't miss it.

"You do not trust me," he observed, his smooth accent flowing like a sleek stream.

"I don't trust anyone."

"Why?"

"Why not? It's only a matter of time before a cadet steps too far over the line."

"Certainly," he agreed. "But I am asking why you do not trust _me."_

She was silent for a moment. "You've told me you were exiled on a remote planet in the Unknown Regions for several years, but you looked _far_ too good for that to be true. I would say maybe a few months, but nothing more."

"How do you know that I am not merely experienced in the subject of survival?"

"I have lived in a very forest-oriented place for most of my life. Even if you were experienced, and I don't doubt that, you would not be as good at talking to people as you are. If you managed to keep healthy physically, you're going to go a little crazy anyway."

"If you are suggesting my exile is fake, what do you believe it was?" His glowing red eyes were guarded, unreadable.

"You're a commander, a warrior. I have never met someone like you before," and her voice was filled with sincerity. "But you are no fool. I doubt you would have been dumped on a planet in the middle of nowhere on purpose. It's a trick to get you where you want to be."

"You are suggesting that I am risking my life and my people's security simply to join the Empire?"

"Everything you do is calculated. Like your decision to come out here and speak to me personally about how you think I'm not who I say I am," she said. "You likely faked an exile to infiltrate the Empire, whether to spy or to destabilize it, I do not care. But you are not who you say you are, either." She finished, half expecting him to try and drown her. But his mask was remarkably good at concealing his intentions.

"What if I told you there are threats beyond the Empire that are far worse than your nightmares, and the galaxy must unite against them?"

"Weird deflection, but okay," Shaira countered dryly. "What if I told you that people are yet to surpass the horrors of my nightmares?" 

"I do hear you at night. I assume your 'training' as you call it is barely above the level of torture."

"It _is_ torture," she said bluntly, her own mask slipping partially. "I know you have seen the injury on my leg."

He didn't deny it. "It is difficult not to notice your limp. You have similar scars across your arms and shoulders, and of course, your face. I assume there are many others?"

Shaira grimaced. "Many. But we're not here to talk about my murky history, Thrawn."

He seemed to entertain the thought for a moment. "I shall still say it. You are not who you claim to be, and I believe that 'Aris Or'lei' is not your real name."

When Shaira has quickly got control of her emotions, she said: "It does not matter."

"Does it? Perhaps I misunderstand humans, but names still hold significance, do they not?"

"Sometimes they do, but often they are simply names. They don't symbolize anything important unless it is an elite family or someone famous." Shaira said, surprised at how calm she was considering Thrawn had ripped away her mask without so much as a blink.

"What is your full name?"

She already knew, but it would be beneficial to see how it was pronounced.

"Mitth'raw'nuruodo."

It was strange, like a melody that Shaira had no hope of pronouncing. "You have a beautiful name."

"Some would disagree."

"Those would be the xenophobes."

Thrawn studied her intently, his eyes glimmering with a strange look. Perhaps recalling what she'd hissed at Deenlark. "You are not human, are you? I had noted on the second day of the Academy the odd scars at the base of your neck, which you unconsciously touch often. What are you?"

She flinched at his curiosity. His ignorance of what those words really meant.

"A curse."

He frowned. "Your people can do such things?"

"No- that's not what I meant."

"Continue."

Her gaze flickered, her razor cat-like teeth flashing. "It doesn't matter. Most people can't tell anyway."

She felt the careful and precise control she had to maintain every day slowly cracking with each breath. He was learning his opponent, a concept taught as the base strategy of any warfare. He knew that _she_ knew things about him that she shouldn't, and that knowledge could damage his plans, whatever they might be. And she had never had someone come so close to her fears, mainly that her genetic modification would become obvious to those around her.

_And that they'll see me as nothing more than a mindless beast._

"We're both at a standstill, then," she said into the relative silence.

"That is correct. I wish to ask you a question, then, as we seem to have ended our current conversation. Why did you recognize me when we first met?"

"What would you like to hear?"

He paused, the crease between his heavy brows deepening. "The truth."

"Unfortunately, that product isn't available."

His frown smoothed out. "Distracting me might work on Cadet Vanto, but it will not work on me."

"I know. But I'm serious, I'm not ready to tell you."

"Why?"

She raised an eyebrow darkly. "You ask an awful lot of questions, _Lieutenant._ The Empire doesn't _like_ people who ask questions."

"They do not like aliens, either."

"They don't like a lot of things. But you'll find the Empire will make life difficult for you because of that."

"Will you?"

She snorted. "I'm no Orbar."

"Then this knowledge between us comes to trust."

He offered her his deep blue hand. She took it firmly, looking him in the eye. Not sure what she could see. Not sure what she _wanted_ to see, either.

Shaira assumed this was where they would get up and leave, but apparently _not_. 

"Why are you considered a curse?"

"Oh, I'm not. I was being sarcastic," she deflected easily. Shaira could see he didn't buy it, but there wasn't much you could say to that. And he probably needed to rest as much as she did right now.

"I see."

"Actually, yeah, about that," Shaira asked. "What exactly _do _you see? Literally?"

"I see into the thermal spectrum when it is sufficiently dark enough."

"Right, and I think it is now sufficiently dark enough for me to go to sleep."

"Was it not dark enough before?" he asked dryly.

"You know, sometimes you catch onto sarcasm right away, and other times you are actually insufferable."

"Cadet Vanto has informed me of that, yes."

_"Really?"_

* * *

Shaira was scrolling through information on her datapad when Eli decided now would be a good time to start talking at 05:00 standard time. In the morning.

Did no one have any respect?

She often looked at her datapad when Cadet Vanto and Lieutenant Thrawn got dressed, and then they would do the same for her. She hadn't missed the odd time when Thrawn had the nerve to sneak a sly glance at her. And he smirked when she caught him do it. _Smirked_.

To be fair, Eli _did_ have to tell Thrawn that humans valued their privacy a lot more than Chiss did. That included not just stripping down for a shower as soon as they were inside their dorm.

_Noooo. I don't want to add_ that_ to my nightmares._

But this time the atmosphere in the room was different. Colder, somehow, than the temperature Thrawn liked to turn the room down to.

"_I don't trust her, Thrawn_," Eli whispered urgently in Sy Bisti.

"_I believe she favours such thinking_," Thrawn replied in his usual calm tone in the same language.

Shaira raised an eyebrow as if to say '_How interesting_.' They didn't know she could speak the language as well as they could.

"_I'm serious_!" Eli hissed. "_Something's just... off. I don't like her. She's younger than both of us and yet she somehow got into the Royal Imperial Academy? That doesn't happen for people from the middle of nowhere. Ever. And that scar on her face doesn't help, or the eyes! Her eyes are creepy! It's like one stares through your soul, and the other extracts it._"

The eyebrow lifted a little higher.

When Thrawn didn't respond, Eli took it as a signal to continue. "_And I saw her hiss at one of the other Cadets yesterday. Her teeth aren't natural, not for a human. They're sharp, like tooka teeth._"

Shaira felt her shoulders tense. She _knew_ she shouldn't have done that. _Damn._

Thrawn gave Vanto one of those small smiles. "_Perhaps your infatuation with Cadet Turuy has been taxing you mentally, Cadet Vanto._"

Eli's mouth fell open inelegantly, his ungroomed brown hair adding even more humour to the scene. Shaira was trying really hard to conceal her laughter with coughing, but she ultimately gave up and let the deep laughs rack her body. "That look suits you, Eli," she wheezed. "You should do it more often."

Thrawn making a joke was funny enough in itself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ORIGINAL NOTES:  
Thrawn and Shaira now have a fragile alliance connecting each other. She finally admits one of her fears; how she was genetically altered to make her a better fighter, regardless of the mental effects.
> 
> NEW NOTES:  
Lol I got infrared and thermal mixed up. I'm such an idiot.  
This is an embarrassment.  
Past self, why were you like this?  
ANYWAY  
heh  
remember when I used to write fluff/humour like this?  
NO MORE, SON


	5. DELETED SCENE - S,SOMG - Is this Justice?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING:  
GORE
> 
> Shaira tracks down the Head Scientist who was responsible for her creation. For the creation of a monster.  
And for what he took away.  
Star, Shine on my Grave Deleted Scene.

_ I wasn’t always like this. _

She clenched her hand into a fist and the vials shattered, spilling red across the floor. Scattering shards of glass.

_ I didn’t always have these scars. _

Her fingers dripped, dripped, dripped, a trail of vivid scarlet, of bright crimson smeared against a clean white floor.

Varlio frantically slapped at the door controls.  _ Click, click, click. _ They beeped sharply, long and loud.

Almost like a scream.

He slammed his hand down. The light flickered green. Grass and sunlight ferns.

_ You have taken everything from me. _

Shaira flicked her hand to the side, flicked blood from her fingertips. The opening door hissed shut.

He was clawing at the buttons in a frenzy now. Eyes wide, scleras glistening. Whole body shaking. Shirt clinging to his sweat-drenched skin.

“Do you know how it feels-” and her eyes flickered yellow, dripping down her face, curling down her cheeks like tears. “-to be trapped?”

Her feet dragged through the glass, slicking blood against black boots. Like the taste of war in her mouth, hard metal and sweet rust.

Varlio’s breaths were gasps, spluttering for air. Face hidden in the wall. Nails dug into the controls that screeched ten alarms.

“You do not create,” Shaira hissed, venom dribbling off her tongue, off her teeth. Falling like a broken promise. “You  _ destroy.” _

An invisible serpent wrapped around his leg. And snapped it.

Varlio screamed, spit flying from his mouth. He crumpled, down, down, down. Sunk into the floor, clutching his leg.

She crouched in front of him and brushed her claws gently along his jaw. Streaking thick cherry across white skin, paint against a canvas. Droplets of red rain, trickling down his chin.

Her fingers locked into his cheek, talons sinking into flesh. And dragged them down, down, down.

Varlio’s brown eyes locked with hers. They were empty, void, unseeing. A river sloshed from his face, from his cheek, a ruby stain blooming out across his white coat like a deadly rose.

“You were the first of your kind,” he whispered, his mouth twitching up. “The perfect assassin.”

“I was a  _ child,” _ she spat, long teeth gleaming pearl. “Not your  _ pet.” _

“But, my dear daughter,” Varlio drawled, blood bubbling out of the hole in his face, oozing over exposed bone.  _ “No one can hurt you again.” _

She slammed him against the wall. Vermilion splattered against her armour, red stars against a black soul. She felt no regret drowning his mind, only fear. Gasping above the surface. 

The floor gathered a pool at their feet.

Red splashed over her hands, gripping his throat.

“You are a coward,” Shaira laughed, her eyes flashing, flickering like flaming yellow lanterns floating into a stormy night. “But what is worse? That you are a  _ father.” _

A young woman ran through the back door, blue eyes wide with fear. “Dad?”

Her gaze swung around, blonde hair folding silkily over her shoulders.

“Dad!” she shouted. Her frantic stare couldn’t see them, couldn’t see Shaira, because her eyes were glued to the smashed vials across the room from them.

Shaira smothered his face before he could scream out. She bent and whispered in his ear.  _ “Have you ever felt pain?” _

Varlio struggled against her grip.

_ I wasn’t always this cruel. _

Shaira’s lips split into a mad smile as his life continued to leak away.

The woman’s hands brushed glass off the bench with a hiss, fingers bumping into the resting blaster. “No, no!”

She turned around, gun locked in her grip.

Her mouth fell open, back rigid, eyes flaring up with terror. “Dad!” she screamed.

Shaira let him fall, knees hitting the floor with a  _ crack, _ blood sloshing down with a  _ splat. _

“Rose!” he shouted, voice crackling like tearing paper. “Run away!”

“Get away from my dad!” Rose shrieked, blaster pistol snapped up. Aimed at Shaira’s head.

Her bright yellow eyes drifted from Varlio, slip-sliding around on the floor, to Rose’s pale face.

Rose’s hands were shaking.

“Unfortunately, the only person leaving will be your father,” Shaira said, words leaking poison. “And it will be to hell.”

Rose’s finger clicked on the trigger.

It didn’t fire.

She clicked it again, again, again.

Nothing.

“You’re never going to get out of this alive,” Rose snarled, blaster falling to her side.

“Eventually they’ll catch me. But first, they’ll be more worried about getting your father.”

Rose’s stance faltered. Her white coat vibrated with the force of her heartbeat. “What do you mean?”

“Tell me,  _ Rose,” _ Shaira challenged, deceptively calm. “Do you know the punishment of illegal genetic modification on a human?”

Rose pulled back a little. “Dad, what is she talking about?”

“Tell her, Varlio,” and Shaira kicked him viciously, drawing out another scream. Rose flinched. “Tell her what you’ve done.”

He stared at the floor, breathing heavily, bleeding heavily.

Shaira moved sharply, intending to jolt his memory again.

“Many years ago Lord Vader came to me with a challenge,” Varlio said quickly.

_ “Dad?” _

Shaira kicked him again. Another scream.

“Stop!” Rose shouted. “Let him speak!”

“Let him  _ speak?” _ Shaira spat. “The last time I heard him  _ speak, _ it was to begin his  _ testing.” _

She slammed her stained boot into his gut, and he shrieked.

_ “Tell her!” _ Shaira bellowed, her claws extending harshly.  _ “Tell her what you’ve done!” _

“I made Lord Vader an assassin.”

Rose shook her head, her breathing loud and wild. “Please say you’re lying. Please, Dad.”

“I made a beautiful creature,” Varlio continued, that ghostly smile swirling in his blood. “With claws and teeth and inhuman strength. Able to do what an army could not. Destroy our enemies. Protect our families. Stop the rebels.”

Long blonde hair flexed over her shaking head. “Please, Dad. You didn’t.”

“She was going to protect us all,” he breathed. “Make sure no one could ever hurt you. But Lord Vader didn’t tell me his real plans. So I couldn’t give you a protector.”

Rose stepped back, her face drowning in disgust. “You  _ made _ someone?”

“Aren’t you proud of me, Rose?” he asked, shivering on the floor, the hole in his cheek still oozing. Eyes dazed. “Look at what I accomplished.”

His other leg snapped.

Rose’s scream morphed with his. Hands clutched over her mouth, shoulders hunched.

Tears spilled from Shaira’s eyes, swirling with rage and pain. “Yes, aren’t you  _ proud _ of your father?” and her voice melted into a sob. “Aren’t you proud of what he’s  _ created?” _

Rose shook her head, crying. Water rolling over her hands, plastered over her mouth. Glimmering like beaded diamonds.

“And now you see,” Shaira breathed, her lips peeling back in a giggle. “Now you see!”

Rose shuddered, taking step by step backwards, choked gasps echoing off the walls.

White, white walls.

Shaira’s fingers twitched. 

Varlio’s neck twisted with a wet, crunching sound.

He spasmed, limbs curling and jerking erratically, throat gurgling. Blood smeared along the floor, his white coat drowned in dark crimson, glass scraping against his dripping skin.

Shaira took one stride forward, over Varlio’s body. “You will make a promise to me.”

Rose nodded frantically, stumbling to put distance between them.

“You will never touch a vial again. You will never be a scientist again. You will never wear a white coat again.” Vermilion ran off Shaira’s fingertips. “So run, run, and never,  _ ever _ come  _ back.” _

Rose did run.

Rose ran and ran and ran.

Just like Shaira ran, ran from the body on the floor, ran from the pooling blood, door slamming shut behind her back.

_ You’re not the only one who can’t come back. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, now that's more like it. This is much more my style. Trauma, anyone?


End file.
